120,000 to 170,000 homegrown pounds of American flesh** (flak jackets not included)
2 million stockpiled missiles marinade in benzene-based napalm
1 demonic dash of despotism
Several vats of patriotic zeal
A liberal supply of recyclable right-wing propaganda
1 bottomless well of fear
A limited supply of hope

* Feel free to improvise ingredients to satisfy any shifts in political winds**To feed larger blood-lust appetites, add more Faustian flesh as needed

Preparation:

Strategically place (but not too strategically, thus hinting any semblance of an exit strategy) a manufactured medium-sized pot on the front burner, making sure to fire heat up to hottest level of revenge, thus ensuring the backdrop Chickenhawks have ample time to rattle their limp-fisted sabers. Blindly throw in 30 to 50 thousand pounds of expendable flesh adorned in patriotic platitudes of freedom preserved in the American Way of Life. Once the pot-o’-flesh comes to full boil, drop in several marinade missiles from above, occasionally stirring in a pinch of patriotic zeal to flavor the furor. Stir liberally, occasionally tossing in a splash of fear-induced right-winged propaganda until the flesh has time to congeal. Move to back burner and let medium pot simmer until flesh is cooked through and thoroughly seasoned with rhetorical promises of hope.

After thoroughly stirring up all of the preemptive ingredients in a large two-dimensional fishbowl, pour mixture into a giant mixing bowl, shake well, and strategically (but again, not too strategically) dump into a giant melting pot on the front burner and turn heat up to Shock and Awe. That’s right: Shock and Awe. But don’t let the fireworks seduce you into forgetting about what’s cooking on the back burner.

Always keep an eye on the back burner.

Once the Shock and Awe has fully effervesced, be sure to keep feeding the pot with unseasoned homegrown flesh, adding several thousand pounds every six months or so, mixing in a demonic dash of despotism and bloodied-handfuls of fear as needed.

Stir conservatively for six years, making sure to keep a watchful eye on the back burner.

Pour in a liberal amount of hope into the giant melting pot and move to back burner until long forgotten. Take out and conspicuously dump spoiled ingredients into nearby VA hospital and pour remaining ingredients into medium pot on back burner.

When T.M. Lindsey isn’t waiting for Cold War II to fire up, he can be found playing on his other blog, Say Something Funny, or holed up in a fortified bunker in the basement of his house penning his memoir, “Confessions of a Cold war Veteran” — which, if all dominoes fall as planned, is scheduled for publication sometime before Cold War II begins.